So… as you may know, I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU (Thomas & Mercer, 2018) my pseudonymously-published psychological thriller launched a couple of days ago. Throughout August, it’ll be available at a substantial discount on Amazon. Amazon Prime members can download an eBook version of my novel for free as part of their First Reads program perks.

Sales are very encouraging. Amazon charts “best seller” lists on an hourly basis. For most of the first two days, the eBook version has been the #1 Best Seller at the Kindle Store. And, yesterday, my editors informed me that the hardcover version was actually the #1 Best Seller among all psychological thrillers. For this, dear readers, I sincerely thank you!

So yesterday I looked at my Amazon reviews. The main thing that jumped out at me was that absolutely no one was talking about the quality of my prose. Nor, for that matter, did people say the novel was badly written. None of that mattered to my readers. Which struck me as funny because most writers I know (including myself) are super invested in the word- and sentence-level quality of our writing.

I used to ask writers if they’d rather write a “a great novel that was horribly written” or a “poor novel that was beautifully written.” The results were mixed—a lot of us would rather be known for writing great sentences even if this meant our novels were otherwise fatally flawed.

Our sentences matter—to us, at least. And yet, for the majority of readers, my guess is that beautifully-written sentences aren’t foremost on their minds when evaluating a novel. Nor, for that matter, are readers terribly interested in style or tone, imagery or themes. Instead, other fictive elements—namely, plot, pacing, and characters— are what they’re after.

The other thing that struck me is that I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU is definitely not the novel to read if you can’t stomach unlikeable characters.

Well, that’s the crazycakes variety where all characters are unlikeable (if not psychologically unhinged), and all relationships are dysfunctional. Think Gillian Flynn’s GONE GIRL, Paula Hawkins’s THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN, and Mary Kubica’s EVERY LAST LIE.

I’ll make no bones about it—my novel definitely falls into the crazycakes variety. My agent and editors and everyone heavily invested in my commercial success might not like me to say this, but people looking for “likeable characters” really should spend their money on one of the novels with likeable characters that I mentioned above rather than buy my novel. Similarly, if you’re looking for a baseball book, civil war saga, or a historical novel set during the Great Depression, look elsewhere. Readers deserve to be happy. If you’re like me, you don’t have a lot of extra money or a lot of free time to invest in something that’s bound to give you no joy.

However, if you’re fascinated by “unlikeable characters” and their crazycakes twisted twisty drama, may I humbly suggest you give I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU a look?

Addendum #1: What’s weird is that those who didn’t like my novel because of the unlikeable characters usually wrote very short 1-star reviews. And, like I said above, I can’t blame them for their dissatisfaction. However, those who really liked unlikeable characters really liked my novel, leaving long cogent reviews so glowing that I almost wanted to cry. These readers really got what I was trying to accomplish.

As readers of this blog know, I’m a big John Lennon fan. There’s a line in “Strawberry Fields Forever” in which Lennon sings about his fear “no one I think is in my tree.” As a previously- unpublished writer, I never knew if I’d ever connect with readers. I honestly thought I was nothing but a voice braying to his lonesome, much to the consternation of everyone around me.

But after reading some of these reviews, I realized I’d made a connection. I wasn’t braying to myself any longer. There were others in my tree!

“You hit the nail on the head. Unlikable characters are like cilantro. Some people love it (it’s the world’s most used herb); but some can’t stand it. The reviews reflect people’s ability to embrace these flavors. That’s why the good reviews are so effusive; others spit it out immediately.”

Addendum #2: The question I get most when talking to people about my novel is why I chose to publish it under a pen name. Earlier this week, I wrote a guest blog piece at Missdemeanors.com in which I talked about this.

Addendum #3: And, lastly, one other excellent thing happened this past week. For the first time ever, I’ve been asked to blurb a novel! And the neat thing is, the person who asked me is a legitimate best-selling novelist, someone whose work I’ve admired for quite some time. This feels like such an honor!

Looking back, I went to a pretty open high school. And, like most people probably, I never felt that I fit in. The reasons for this are many, but I among them was the fact that I could never muster the preppy wardrobe necessary to blend in with other students. Izod shirts were popular. As were conspicuous displays of orthodontia. My father worked at a Chevy plant and we lived way way out of town in a house right behind the railroad tracks. Although I kept up with my peers intellectually, on many levels I felt like I couldn’t compete. At the time, I remember people saying that I was amazingly stuck up, but really I painfully shy. But going back to being an open high school. On a couple of special days, normal classes were cancelled. Outsiders were invited to give various talks throughout the day, but students were also invited to give their own presentations. Along with a couple of friends, I remember giving a seminar on protest songs. Okay, “seminar” probably gives off too stiff of an academic vibe to what we did—mostly we played socially-motivated songs by our favorite bands and talked about the circumstances that gave rise to them. John Lennon’s “Working Class Hero” was one of the songs I played, dragging to school my original Apple-label vinyl pressing of the album on which it appeared. I have no idea how much the record was worth on collectors’ markets, but I kidded myself into thinking it was really valuable. When I finished playing that song and lifted the tone arm off the record, the entire room was quiet. I doubt many had heard the song before, but it was a good kind of quiet—the kind of quiet that happens when people are actively thinking and negotiating the meanings of what they just heard. I thought of this moments ago when I stumbled upon a rare live version of John Lennon rehearsing the song prior to a 1972 concert at New York’s Madison Square Garden. For what it’s worth, here’s a clip of the version that appeared on Lennon’s first post-Beatle album, Plastic Ono Band. Even after all these years, the song still gives me the chills. So anyways, that high school seminar from long ago. We talked about the song. People asked what it meant to be a “working class hero,” and why a pop star millionaire Beatle could possibly be so bitter. Whatever the song might be, it’s not a Springsteen-esque glorification of the working classes. Nor is it a rallying cry for others to join the ranks of working class. After the school bell rang, ending the seminar, I discovered just how great of an impression the song made with at least one of my peers: someone had walked off with my rare Lennon record.Errata: I’ve had a few more stories published recently. “Kryptonite” appears in the latest issue of Tampa Review Online. “Bronzed,” winner of The Packingtown Review’s flash fiction contest, appears in their new issue. And, lastly, here’s “The Communion of Saints” appeared in Corium’s Winter issue. Of the bunch, I had probably worked longest on this story. For years, I had given it the working title of “More Words About Children and Dollars.” Don’t worry—it’s not a boy losing his rare John Lennon record.